


Quid. Pro. Quo.

by panouat



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Manipulation, Mind Games, Minor Character Death, Neverland (Once Upon a Time), Pan has a different past, Slightly Alternate Universe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-04
Updated: 2014-02-17
Packaged: 2018-01-07 11:36:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1119367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/panouat/pseuds/panouat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pan's rules are simple. Quid pro Quo. Win & you get the price. Lose & you will be punished. Break the rules... well, cheaters never win. But the most important rule is quick to be broken: Don't touch a single children, none. </p><p>& everything will get out of hand rather quickly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I have to admit, I ignore Pan's back-story. Peter Pan was and always will be the boy who would not grow up. He was never an adult and sure as hell never became Rumplestilskin's father. If you happen to like the idea and are not fond of a different past, I would kindly ask you to leave, because that is exactly what will happen here.  
> So, I have warned you. 
> 
> In my mind, Pan is a broken child with a horrible past, where he had to learn the hard way that adults and parents are worth nothing. Neverland was created because of his own wish for a better place on this godforsaken earth. Pan burdens himself with the task to rescue children, who are as lost as he was. The monster, Pan seems to be now, was created by those, who carry the responsibility to keep children safe and sound.
> 
> Underneath the mask made of anger, power and games, he is as lost as all of his Lost Boys. Although Pan would never admit it, he is more broken than any single one of them.

> You have to learn the rules of the game. And then you have to play better than anyone else.
> 
> \- Albert Einstein

 

A replacement. He became a bloody replacement. With Henry being back in his own body (and guarded by his grandparents) directly after he was freed from Pandora’s Box, Emma, Regina and Gold thought it would be an amazing idea to start a discussion with Pan. All that is missing are food and drinks, because whatever they are trying to accomplish does not bother Pan in the slightest. His grin is all tooth, and his too long legs dangle in front of Regina’s desk. They are talking to the child. Everyone involved should be glad about it.

Dealing with Pan was never easy, and it never will be. Killian is one who knows best. Far too long he was Pan’s little minion, doing as he was told. The smallest mistake follows retribution. Something Killian had learnt very, very early. Still, he remembers the death of one of his man. It was unpleasant. To be ripped apart is something, he does not want to experience. His men have been scared to the death. No one made a mistake since. But Killian learnt how to get on Pan’s, in lack of better words, good side, and he slowly started to understand how the eternal boy thinks. Not to be mistaken here, Killian does not know anything about the boy in particular. Besides, it did not help at all, nor did it save him from surprises. Yet he was (or maybe still is) able to relate to his actions and words.

Pan kept them alive back in Neverland. There was always enough food and water, and the Jolly Roger had free passage to and from Neverland as long as they played by the rules. Killian and his crew were feared and known. They became pirates at the command of a boy. Killian fulfilled every single task Pan gave them, and he still would, knowing to well what happens otherwise. It took years for Killian to muster up the courage and try to leave the island for good. But by that time, Pan have long got bored with them. Although he wants to think of it as a triumph over the boy, Pan probably had his finger in the pie.

The eternal boy knew Killian would come back at some point.

It is the same situation right now. Pan knows he had won since he sat foot in Storybrooke. Neither a raging Regina, nor an angry Emma or an ill-humoured Gold towering behind him will change that. Killian does not want to make a fool of himself. One of the reasons, he stays next to the door. Here he would not come under fire **and** can acknowledge what a pillock he was to turn Pan’s offer down. The way he does not care about Rumplestilskin or the Evil Queen makes Killian nervous. Both of them hold great power, and Pan still is stronger. Again, the pirate finds himself wondering if the eternal boy has any fears. He cannot remember Pan being scared – neither recently, nor in the past. But Killian thinks to know a weak spot; one he would never dare to use.

“What if we win?” Regina asks, voice tight. Pan lifts an eyebrow in amusement. Killian sighs inaudible. Everything goes as this demon has planned. Nothing can change the outcome. Peter Pan will win again. The grin widens, becomes more devilish than before. His mood can hardly be any better. But it is safer this way. A furious Pan can do so much more to one than kill. He makes you hide in a corner for days too afraid to spare a glance. He turns your own mind against you, shatters you. He bends you until you break. Killian knows. He **saw.**

Pan jumps off of the table, “That’s why I am here. **I** set the challenges. **I** decide what happens if you lose.” He grins, still amused, but oh-so dangerous. He reminds Killian of a predator eying his pray. With movements too elegant for a normal teenager his age, Pan paces up and down in front of the Saviour and the Evil Queen. His eyes are looked with Regina’s at all times. As if she has a say in any of this. “You decide your price.” Pan cocks his head to one side. “Not all of it, of course, but I’m in a good mood. And more importantly, I play fair.” He scrutinizes Emma, and his eyes darken for a second. Pan despises liars and cheaters.

 _‘And you keep your promises, right lad?’_ An idea takes shape in his head. Killian starts to smile full of anticipation. Pan never lies, too. He may bend the truth, but no insincere word left his mouth once. Sure, a lot of people see the manipulation as a lie, but Killian learnt to find the truth in every syllable. A good streak, but something the pirate could use to their advantage. 

The silence stretches. Instead of words, glances are exchanged. If they wait too long, Pan will get impatient, and the chance to have a word in his game is gone.

“You know everything about us,” Killian jumps in, his nerves getting the best of him. It would be too risky not to use this opportunity. He lessens the distance between him and Pan. Emma turns around, a confused look on her face. Gold obviously thinks about his words. Regina tries to cut in, but Pan seems to understand the meaning. He narrows his eyes. “Enlighten us,” Killian ends.

The boy appears right in front of him. So abrupt, Killian flinches. Right, he forgot about that. Although it is Pan’s trademark. If he wants to intimidate you, he will appear within a second. Pan will be too close and leaves you with the feeling of walls closing in.

The mood change is dangerous. Killian had has enough time to take courses in ‘How to read Peter Pan’. Involuntary, of course. See, it is actually very easy to figure out if you did something wrong. Pan always grins, but you can see it in his eyes. Right now, they remind Killian of the sky during a thunder storm. In Neverland the weather usually accompanies Pan’s mood. Luckily, Killian is in Storybrooke.

“I don’t remember you have been asked, Killian,” Pan says in a low voice. It is unnerving, the way the kid says his real name. He is the only one calling him that. Although Pan is smaller and way thinner than Killian himself, he has to fight the urge to take a step back. But he needs to win his respect, otherwise he starts this game as a loser. ‘ _Don’t push the demon, feed the child’_ , Killian reminds himself. That is the only way to survive Pan’s games.

“But the idea is good,” Emma states and takes away the anger focusing on him. Pan sets his jaw. Killian instincts set in, trying to make him run. Confronting the eternal boy with his past is a dangerous path to go down. But the pirate has the feeling there is more than meets the eye. Pan is not just a man who got bored with his adulthood. Pan learnt to hate adults in general, not the thought of being one. He created Neverland in his **dreams** , but Malcom was no magician. Holes build the fundament of the story Gold told them, and Pan never mentioned it. There is something fishy about this story. But Killian could not quite put his finger on it.

“Fine,” Pan says, voice calmer than his eyes. Killian senses the unspoken promise of revenge. Revealing Pan’s darkest secrets is nothing that comes without a price. But the pirate is ready for it. Maybe he will get rid of this boy once and for all. **_Do you want to?_** A low voice asks. It sounds familiar. Killian heard it before. In Neverland. A long time ago. But now it is back, and Pan smirks as if he knows. Maybe he does. Killian cannot be sure, not with this boy. “Let the games begin.” Pan takes a step back, and the pirate feels a sudden imaginary pull. He feels the loss of Pan’s heat. Something he did not realise was there, until it is gone.   

 _‘No,’_ Killian thinks out of the sudden, ‘ _I don’t want him gone. I want to_ **know**.’    

“The rules,” Gold reminds Pan and creates a sudden change in the atmosphere. The boy is back. The demon went back to sleep. Just like that. Pan turns around and goes back to the desk on silent feet. Not a care in the world. Regina and Emma could draw a weapon, Pan would not consider them a thread. He is too self-confident, and he has every right to be. Henry’s heart gave him more power than he ever had. Killian knows, they are alive just because Pan is no murderer.

“The rules change from challenge to challenge, but…” Pan turns around and gives Regina a pointed look, “there is one rule in general you better not dare to break.” They do not touch, but he is so close to her, that it does not matter. Killian presses his lips together trying to hide his smile, as Regina takes a step back. But not to bring distance between them. Her shoulders are tense. She is intimidated.

“The children are not to be involved.”

He vanishes within the blink of an eye, leaving behind a confused group of three people. Killian was right. So he does know something about the great Peter Pan. Something no one else is aware of, because they only see a monster. He may be a bloody demon, but his heart is not as black as everyone thinks.

Killian leaves the office without hesitation. The game had begun.   


	2. points of authority

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Hi! Hope you're all feeling well 'n' stuff! 
> 
> First of all, a BIG thank-you for reading my story! A few weeks ago, I didn't wanted to publish anything. So, I'm really, really happy some of you are enjoying it (and I'm a little more confident about my English, huh).
> 
> And another thank-you to we_remain_together for being my beta. You help me alot! <3
> 
>  
> 
> Well, I don't really know what to say here, but, hm, enjoy? Yeah, probably. [:

> ~~_Cover up your face_ ~~
> 
> ~~_You can’t run the race_ ~~
> 
> ~~_The pace is too fast_ ~~
> 
> ~~_You just won’t last_ ~~

 

Killian sighed audibly, glancing to where Regina and Emma where standing in front of his ship. He wasn’t surprised. Not in the least. Even still, he’d hoped they would torture Pan’s self-proclaimed son with questions about his ‘father’. It’s foolishness. He didn’t believe a word of it. If Pan _really_ was Rumplestilskin’s father, he’s certain Pan would have mentioned it to him by now. Pan knew of Killian’s history with the crocodile, and he knew of Killian’s need for vengeance, he had even helped him—to an extent. If Rumplestilskin truly was his son… Considering how hard Pan tried to keep the children – his Lost Boys and every child in Storybrooke – out of this game, it was rather unlikely for him to help kill his own child. Killian didn’t let himself dwell on the fact that, perhaps, Pan had known he would never be able to kill him. That all the things he’d told him had been lies. Because, Pan was very aware of who Killian’s crocodile was.

But Peter Pan never lied.

“We need to talk,” Emma said.

Killian crossed his arms, watching Regina stride down the walkway on steady feet. **_Well, hello to you, too._** The saviour trailed behind the Evil Queen. A picture Killian would never get used to. In a strange way, they’d become rather good friends, as of late. It couldn’t last long, though. If they survive this game, there was bound to be trouble in paradise again.

Children brought nothing but worry.

“I feared you would say that,” Killian remarked coldly.

Emma gave him a confused look, but didn’t respond. Really, he wasn’t in the best of moods. His night had been far too short. Like usual, he hadn’t slept long, or soundly, with Peter Pan around. He was always on edge, always afraid he’d turn around and find Pan standing in the shadows. It was even worse being without a crew. Of course, the eternal boy hadn’t shown up. Yet, Killian was certain his constant fear and unease would be enough for Pan. The boy was stuck in the back of his mind like glue. It had taken him **years** to shake this anxiety, and now, just like that, it was back again.

Sighing Killian ran his fingers through his short hair, “Why?” _Why now? Why me?_

Regina came to a stop right in front of him, an annoyed frown crossing her face. Apparently, they though him able to read minds now? Was he supposed to see her every thought? She had obviously forgotten who she was talking to. No doubt, this conversation was about Pan, but there was nothing new Killian could possibly tell them.

“I think you know,” Regina spat. Her temper seemed to be worse than his. Something that, instantly, lightened up his mood. Maybe he _was_ up for a little chat with the women of this horrid town full of do-gooders. He’d humour them, for a while. It all depended on how Regina choose to approach this, because Emma, it seemed, was resigning herself to following the Evil Queen’s lead.

Regina pressed her lips into a thin line, “What is he up to?”

Killian shushed her, lifting his good hand in a dramatic gesture, before turning and walking back towards his quarters. _What was wrong with her?_ He motioned them to follow. _Honestly, how had the woman survive so long?_ It was foolish to speak so freely out in the open. Besides, Killian wasn’t keen on anyone overhearing their exchange and getting the wrong impression. Since they’d arrived back to Storybrooke, he had made up his mind. He wasn’t going to play this game, at least not on their side. He was either on his own, or Pan’s.

Emma slumped onto his bed, as if the weight of the world was forcing her down. Obviously neither of them had slept well last night. Killian scrunched up his nose. Somehow, he had expected to enjoy a sight like this; Emma, on his bed— looking quite desperate.

But he found he didn’t even care. Pan was stuck under his skin again, stubborn and unrelenting, like a cockroach under his boot. He was clouding up his mind, to a point where it felt rather like obsession.

Regina made herself comfortable, perching on his old wooden desk, crossing her legs and arms. Her face was—well—murderous. It would be amusing. But she should really be a bit nicer to his papers and trinkets, instead of pushing them around. It was not like his maps had done anything to her.

“How could I possibly know?” Killian asked, glancing absentmindedly as Emma pulled a leg up to her chest. Regina snorted, as if he should, somehow, have the answers to all their questions. He may have history with the eternal boy, but he was no fortune teller; and even a man with this talents would hardly be of much help to them. The boy was more **erratic** than any living creature he had ever met. Killian had lost count of Pan’s ever flappable mood changes, long ago.

Regina pointed a finger at him, “Since you are still alive after all this time, maybe he has a soft spot for pirates with a hook instead of a hand?”

Killian chuckled, amused. It had cost him nearly all his self-control to not start laughing outright. Did she not realise how idiotic she sounded? The thought of Pan caring about _anything_ outside of his Lost Boys was ridiculous. Let alone the possibility that Pan could care _enough_ to stay his hand, and not kill him, if he’d done something that truly displeased the boy. Pan had a vindictive temper, and had no qualms with punishing Killian as he saw fit. That was game, after all.

“A soft spot?” It was an idiotic notion. Yes, he was still alive. But only because Pan didn’t kill without reason. Regardless of what had been said, Peter Pan was no mindless murderer. He was no saint either, but he only killed those he thought had broken his rules.

“You can think whatever you like, love,” Killian gave her a pointed look, his voice dropping low, “it won’t make me know any more than I’ve already told you,” It felt like defeat, somehow. Killian was aware that he should – that he wanted to – know _more_ about Pan, after all those years, but he didn’t. And every attempt he’d ever made to change that has failed.

“What does that even mean?” Regina starts. _That I’m not afraid of you for starters._ Emma buried her face in her hands. “You have to know _something_.”

Yes. Yes, he should. But he hadn’t a clue, and he couldn’t just create knowledge out of nothing. Pan was as much a mystery to him as he is to everyone else.

“No one really knows _anything_ about Peter Pan,” Killian interrupted her angrily. He’s done with them now, done being the scapegoat. It’s easy for them to lay everything on him. Why not? It’s easier that way, right? Why should she even bother looking at her own flaws? He pointed his hook at her, “The boy is unpredictable.” Anger was rising in his chest now. This wasn’t his job anymore. This game had just begun a new chapter, and he didn’t want to start off on the wrong side. He’d given them his word that he would get them to Neverland and back again. He did, and that was it. Their partnership had ended, and he was still the man he’s always been. He’d thought, for a moment, that he’d seen something in Emma, something that could make him—better. That he could maybe even love her. But now? He doubts it. Maybe she had kissed him as a payment, maybe it was her way to say thank you. Maybe not. **_Please… you think that kiss actually meant something?_** He frowned as the words flashed in his mind again, burning, aching _and so true. Pan is always right… isn’t he?_

“What… what would you advise us to do?” Emma asked, without any hope in her voice. Her misery did not affect him, in the slightest. Was he really so wrong about his feelings for her? _I do. I think it means she’s finally starting to see me for the man I am._ Maybe his annoyance was clouding his mind, not allowing him to think straight. But the way she was looking at him now? The way her eyes flickered, uncertainly, back to Regina. He can see it. Emma trusted Regina _far more_ than she trusted him.

Because of one simple reason: Their son.

 ** _What? A one-handed pirate with a drinking problem?_** He could hear Pan’s low snicker. He could feel his fingers pressing down, his nails digging in, ripping, and burning his skin. **_I’m no grownup, but I’m pretty sure that’s less than appealing._**  

“I would advise, that you follow his rules,” Killian muttered running his good hand through his hair again, “and try to survive.” He had a hard time locking out that taunting voice in his head. They were just memories, nothing more. And yet, Pan’s words had always stayed with him, like claws digging into his flesh.

Regina snorted. Again.

Killian tried to keep his anger in check. He was nothing more than a pirate in her eyes that much he knew. She was here because he was supposed to help solve the mystery that was Peter Pan. He had no intentions of doing so, and yet they didn’t leave. _Why?_ He would be of no use to them. Gold could tell them much more—more of his lies.

 ** _Yes, lies about Pan._** It was a growl. Anger and hate, burning rage. Killian pinched the bridge of his nose. All he needed was some sleep and more rum, something to numb the pain in his head.

Besides, as far as he was concerned, Killian was going to play this game without the do-gooders and their Evil Queen. His life was the only thing he values.

“That is all you have to say?!” Regina scolded.

 ** _Shut her up._** Killian closed his eyes for a second – and unclenched his fist. Even without Pan being physically here, the boy had too much power over him. **_Make her suffer._** There was no way, he can handle Regina, Emma and the voice in his head. He sighed, feeling incredible exhausted all of the sudden. They needed to leave, now. But Regina wanted answers, and Emma seemed to trust her completely.

Nevertheless, there was only one thing Killian knew for certain. One thing he was not going to tell anyone. This was a secret he hold dear, because it was the only good thing left in the eternal boy.

He won’t let it be used against him.

“Yes,” Killian looked her straight in the eye, unfazed.

She may be the Evil Queen. She may have caused everyone in the Enchanted Forest to bow, trembling at her feet— but he was different. No matter what she said, he will not back down.

Regina raised from the desk, anger flashing in her dark eyes. Emma simply shook her head. **_What a great saviour you are._** She was defeated before the game had even begun. A wonderful way to start a war, because that was going to happen if they didn’t play by his rules. He couldn't understand how senseless they were. Had they not realised Pan couldn't be defeated? No matter how they planned on plotting against him?

There was only one means of dealing with Pan and his beloved games.

Play, survive and maybe, just maybe, you will get off his hit list.

“If I find out you’re hiding anything, I will-“

“What?” Killian cut her off.

That was it. He didn’t care anymore. To hell with Mister Nice-Guy. He was a captain, a man of honour, and he will not be threatened by an embittered woman who has no idea she’s in way over her head. Never, and especially not on own his ship.

“I lived in Neverland, I faced horrors you cannot even imagine,” He pointed his hook at her again, more impending this time, and ignored Regina’s growing fury. She could try and make herself as tall as she wants. He didn’t care about the power she thought she inhabits. “You cannot scare me, witch,” He all but shouted, “The only person I’m truly afraid of is out there. Even on your most glorious of days, you are not half as powerful as he is.”

Killian wanted her to be horrified. He wanted her to _know_ she wasn’t the fiercest being in this goddamn world. Her ego needed to be checked, so she was able to think straight again. His words needed to sink in.

But a low chuckle ruined the moment, “I am sure Pan would be delighted to hear about your feelings towards him, Hook.”

Frustrated Killian closed his eyes. _Great_. Felix. There went his pride along with the last bits of his dignity. Whether Pan would hear of it or not, Felix will never let him forget. Forget that he just willingly admitted to being afraid. The brat had always enjoyed poking a stick into his wounds.

“Doing his dirty work again, are we, Felix?” Killian retorted, “Do you think he will ever let you do something of _actual_ value?”

He’d never quite been able to figure exactly what Pan saw in Scarface. Felix was older than Pan, almost eighteen that much Killian knew. But nothing more. He sometimes considered Felix too old to belong to the Lost Boys, still Pan had taken him to Neverland. Furthermore, the brat could pretty much survive on his own. Killian remembered him being the one in charge when Pan had been away. Yet, the eternal boy would never ask Felix for his opinion—on anything.

He simply didn’t understand their relationship.

“At least I don’t need to be afraid of him.”

Killian snorted, “And yet you are.” He felt himself grin, believing he’d won this little argument.

Felix lifted an eyebrow, seemingly unimpressed. It pissed Killian off to no end. He’d never liked Felix. One thing he is fairly certain of: Scarface was not too fond of him either. He’d hated him since the beginning, and even more so after what he'd done to Rufio.

“I miss the old days,” Felix smirked, “Especially when you’d locked yourself in your quarters for weeks. Hiding like a child afraid of the Boogeymen.”

He’s tempted, for a moment, to run his hook through the boy’s smug face.

“You two can kiss and make up later,” Regina chimed in. “What do _you_ want?” She asked. _Where is Pan?_ She meant.

Because Felix did not want anything, and will, hopefully be leaving sooner rather than later. Otherwise Killian would lose his temper, and he really didn’t want to start this game on the wrong foot. If you have a death wish, hurt one of Pan’s boys, and he will do the dirty work for you.  

Scarface gave Killian another pointed smirk, then turned, dismissing him, to address Emma and Regina.

Killian clenched his teeth together, and _oh_ how he hated this boy for making him behave like a child.

“I am here to deliver news of the first challenge,” Felix answered, and it may be hard for others to tell, but Killian could see he wasexcited about it. He’d learned that the boy was skilled at hiding his anticipation. It was the times Felix appeared to be bored to death that you knew something truly devious was about to happen. He contained his eagerness. Primarily, just sharing a knowing smirk with Pan and quietly going along, waiting to watch all hell break loose from the side lines.

“Where is Pan?” Emma asked, and Killian actually was surprised at her boldness. He wondered if Regina had ordered her to be silent before, to let her do the talking. _Because it always ended so well…_ But that wasn’t important right now, because Emma was right. Where _was_ Pan? It was pretty unusual for the boy to miss out on something like this.

“I’m afraid he’s a little tied up with something right now,” Felix said. Killian did not like his tone. Something was off. Scarface was a bit too happy about Pan’s nonappearance, and the way Felix looked at him … it made Killian’s stomach drop.

No, he did not like that boy at all.

“Look, the challenge is yours, Hook,” Felix said settling against the doorframe. A glimmer of excitement sparked in Killian. _Mine_.

“For Hook?” Regina asked, slightly irritated. She sounded almost angry, while Emma stared at him. She seemed to be unsure, almost as if it bothered her as well. Jealous not to be the centre of attention, maybe? _Welcome to my world, love **.**_ Just because she was the saviour in Storybrooke did not mean it applied to everything else. Emma had no idea how many other realms existed parallel to this one.

Felix nodded, “Yes. You, old man, get to choose who plays, and who gets to cheer from the stands.” Killian tightened his hand into a fist. _Old man_? He’s pretty damn sure this brat is older than him.

“What?” Regina asked shocked. _My game_. Killian could feel the adrenaline pumping in his veins. _Yes._ Pan wanted him to play first. _Mine._ Not anyone else. He’ll start. _Just me._ Nothing had changed since Neverland. When there was a game, Killian was the first piece to be moved by Pan. **_Nothing has changed_**.

Felix pressed his lips into a thin line, displeased to be interrupt again. “You choose, Hook,” He stated, rather aggressively, “The rules are very simple: No children. The challenge begins tonight at your ship. Pan will explain everything else.” He pushed himself away from the doorframe and closed the distance between himself and Killian. A smirk reappeared on his face, “If any of you try to back out… well, you might want to take a look at this.” He pressed a pell to his chest, and left.

“I am not going to let a pirate choose for us!” Regina exclaimed.

Killian ignored her and stepped over to his desk. Her opinion meant less than nothing to him. He was going to play by the rules, and he didn’t care what they wanted, or what they thought of him. Nervy he unrolled the pell, setting a book and a flask on both ends. Emma slid into a chair alongside his desk. “It is empty,” She stated.  

Killian shook his head. _Look again_.

A small drop appeared in the middle of the parchment. It looked like blood, and Killian would not be too surprised if that is exactly what it was. The dark red colour was spreading, creating a picture. _Pan_. He recognised his boots before everything was set into place. Delicate lines spread over the parchment, drawn by an invisible hand.  

“ _David_!” Emma cried

This was not going to be pretty, Killian could tell, at least not for Prince Charming. After the picture was finished, it left him with an unsettling feeling. He could not put his finger on it, but somehow Killian felt as if he was staring through a window, as if he was right there in this room, watching their every move.

Loud banging brought him back to the here and now. “What?” Emma drew her weapon. Regina lifted her hands ready to kill whoever might enter through the doorway – but no one was there. The door was partially open, letting in the faint light of the afternoon sun. But the noise was still audible, louder. This time more demanding. It sounded like someone was trying to break through hard wood with bare hands.

“Quiet!”

Killian jerked around. That had been Pan’s voice, he was sure of it. But the boy was nowhere to be seen. Nonetheless, the banging sound had stopped.

Confused Killian looked around. Both women did the same. He felt uncomfortable to say the least. It made him nervous. If it had simply been in his head, he would have been much calmer about it. He knew the feeling of paranoia. Sometimes, back in Neverland, he’d thought he was going mad. Those were the times he’d locked himself up for days.

But this was real.

“Oh, why so sullen, laddie?” Killian could practically hear the smirk on Pan’s lips. Shaking off his rattling nerves, he rushed back to the parchment on his desk cursing under his breath. The bloody drawing had come to life. It was bothersome. Pan knew how to play with your mind. It didn’t take much. Just a little push, a faint gust of wind. He turned everything pretty into the worst nightmare you could imagine.

Killian stared at the picture. A part of him was fascinated, almost thrilled. Pan’s games were always different, dangerous and oh-so addictive. And so it began.

Pan had moved his knight to face the queen. Careless, at first sight, but too powerful to fail. It was only them. The king and his knight. Pan and Felix. The pawns and rooks would not be moved, his queen, unknown, would stay hidden in the depth of Neverland.

But one question remained: Who would be the king on the white side?

Killian heard a chuckle and fixed his eyes back on the parchment. David half sat, half lied in front of the ladder. One arm was looped around the steps, the hand of the other pressed against his bloody chest. Pan could only be seen from behind, but Killian was sure, the boy’s smirk was in competition with the devils. “I’ve always been told I could brighten up any place,” Pan said, a feigned pout evident in his voice. He sat on the chair back, light as a feather, his long legs dangling. He looked like he always did: carefree, self-confident and marginally bored. His interests wan as fast as they come.

You might have taken him for a normal teenager, if not for the bloody heart in his palm. Too real, too alive. This was not the stuff that fairy tales are made of. Regina, despite being the feared Evil Queen, wasn’t half as violent as Peter Pan. His magic was brutal and rough, not fully developed, but complete nonetheless. You could see he was still a child, grown but not yet a man. A boy; childish by nature and so messy in everything he did. A bit too careless sometimes. Pan used his magic however he wanted to, well aware of the outcome. It was neither perfect, nor clean. He did not care if he left behind fingerprints. He didn’t care about anything.

His lanky body was full to its rim with power unlike any other.

Magic, Peter Pan had created on his very own terms.

Emma stumbled to Hook’s side. Their shoulders touched, and she was far too close for comfort. He could feel her fingers ghosting over his wrist. He pulled his hand away, instinctually. It was neither the time, nor the place. His mind was focused on Pan, on the things that were going to happen.

Besides, she didn’t truly need him. She just wanted someone to lean on, someone to encourage her. Maybe she should go to Neal, because he was done forcing false kind platitudes from his mouth.

“What do you want?” David asked. His voice thick with pain. Pan turned the bloody heart in his hand ignoring the prince completely. His attention lied elsewhere. With the interest of a child and the precaution of a predator, he dug the nail of his index finger into the heart. David squirmed. The redness beating rather quickly.

“I had thought it would be bigger,” The eternal boy mused, closing his long fingers around the slightly glowing heart, “It sort of looks like an apple.” The ideas of a child, nothing else. Sometimes it was rather surprising how antithetic Pan could be. In many ways, he was a child, wanting simply to play games and have fun. In others, he was a soul full of hatred and darkness. Devouring, crushing what little happiness you had left.

“What do you want, Pan?” David asked again, firmly this time, but Killian had never seen him so completely staggered. Killian could relate, being subjected to Pan’s complete attention was overwhelming. The prince should be happy – or hope to die as soon as possible. It depended on what exactly Pan was planning to do.

Pan dug his digits deeper into the heart, and David didn’t only squirm this time but scream. Killian could see the smile creeping up the boy’s lips without looking at him. He knew how much Pan enjoys the pain he brought others without any effort. Just a little pressure here and a bit of nail there. “Fun,” His fingers released the heart. Pan threw it in the air once, small drops of blood hitting the floor and the green tunic, maybe his trousers, too. He caught the redness with his other hand confidently, and obviously more than amused.

“I want to make sure no one is breaking my rules,” Pan pressed down harder this time. David screamed louder and _begged_. He begged Pan to stop, to not kill him. Killian barely registered it when Emma turned from the desk and ran from the quarters.

Regina was still by his side, watching Pan, shell-shocked. Killian wondered if she realised now just how pathetic she seemed in comparison to the wickedness that was in this boy.

Chuckling Pan let go of the heart and rocked it back and forth on the palm of his hand.

David tried to get up, but only groaned in pain. With way too much effort, the prince lifted his arm and pressed his hand to the hole in his chest. Blood was flowing from the wound now. If Pan kept this up for much longer, David would surely die from blood loss.

“So… so you’re keeping me as leverage?” David asked weakly. His hand was already saturated in blood. Pan chuckled again, a bit louder this time.

The child was asleep and the monster had come out to play.

“No,” Pan countered still chuckling a bit, “ _You_ are worthless.” He did not even look at David but his heart. Killian felt a shiver run down his spine. Not the product of fear, but something else. This had become a game greater than he had first anticipated.

“If someone chooses to back out of my game, and I know your irritatingly kind-hearted daughter will consider it, I will re-cast a curse,” Pan appeared right in front of David, holding the beating heart right in front of his face, “and this is all I need.”   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, it's me again. Always talking. I know, but there a few little things I want to tell you.
> 
> I'm drowning in work. Yepp, everything went a little crazy the last two weeks, because my semester is ending and somehow my classes are getting worse. I'm not here to complain, but to let you know that I have to learn for my spanish exam, a test, and I have to write three semester papers. At the same time I'm actually writing a novel with a friend, and, well... that's just a lot to do, but I will continue this story. I have everything worked out. I even have 4 different endings. Not sure which one's going to be the one... but I have something like a plan.
> 
> More or less, at least. 
> 
> The chapter number '17' up there is probably compeletly wrong, because everything that should have happen in 'Chapter 1' is now happening in 3 chapters. It will be more, I suppose. Just thought you should know, hmhm.


	3. enemy of mine

 

>  
> 
>   
> _~~Angel or a demon~~ _   
> _~~I gave up my soul~~_   
> _~~I'm guilty of treason~~_   
> _~~I’ve abandoned control~~_

 

The weather had gotten worse since the bright morning. Thick clouds hung deep in the sky. It looked foreboding, and Killian knew better than to ignore the feeling in his guts. He faced too many storms on the sea not to be prepared for something bigger, something entirely new. Because this? This had no natural cause. This thunderstorm was no freak of nature.

It was Pan.

And the boy was either in a dangerously good or fatally bad mood. Both were equally terrifying.

Sighing, Killian turned to look at the little clock on his desk. It belonged to Liam, just like everything else in his quarters did. Sometimes he wondered, what his brothers would think about him if he was able to see him now. Mostly Killian tried to convince himself that he would be okay with how he turned out, or at least understood why he became the way he was. Yet Killian had to be honest with himself: Liam wouldn’t be.

But his brother was dead, because he had trusted himself only, because he had **never** listened. Neither to him, his own brother, nor to anybody else.

Just like Pan never heeded anyone’s advice. His brother and he were very alike in their stubborn streaks.

“Killian,” The boy appeared suddenly in front of him with a smug grin on his lips. Killian flinched, then sighed. He would never get used to the ability to disappear and re-appear whenever or wherever he wanted to. Still, the boy was two minutes early. That was so unlike him. _Again_. But Killian knew better than to mock Pan with his obvious excitement for the game to start.

“Hello Pan,” Killian nodded and couldn’t really help but answer the boy’s grin with one of his own. It wasn’t all-tooth, but it didn’t hide his own anticipation. Pan was not the only one, who wanted this game to start at last. Besides, the good mood meant less bloodshed and maybe, just maybe, a bigger reward as promised.

Pan crossed his arms. “Are you ready?” He asked, but Killian was sure he already knew the answer, although Pan couldn’t imagine how much he wanted to begin. He missed the old days, he missed all their games and their fights. He would never admit it, but those were the things which had kept him alive back then. The boy alone had been able to pick up the pieces after Liam and Milah’s death. With his bloodlust and his childish curiosity Peter Pan had made him a living man again.

He would always go back to him and to Neverland. It wasn’t because he thought he needed to be punished or had to suffer. The answers was different, and no one besides Killian or the Lost Boys would ever understand it. Neverland was a place he could call home, with all its flaws and everything lethal.

Pan might or might not know about it. He’d never asked and Killian wouldn’t tell.

“Let’s get it over with,” He said after a few seconds of silence. His annoyance sounded as faked as it was. Even if his excitement would not shine through, Pan would have seen his lie. Like always.

Emma could say what she wanted about herself. She might be able to assume someone’d lied, and her instincts seemed to be right most of the time. But Pan simply **knew** you lied. Killian would went so far as to say, he could tell your intention to lie before one single word had left your mouth.

Some people didn’t see the fine line between a truth and a lie, Pan did. This was the ability besides his magic, which made him as powerful as he was. People called him a liar, when he was not screaming the truth in their face, but let him think about his words. They’d accuse him of lying when the truth was too painful to admit.

Pan took advantage of those very moments to pull and push and bend, to rip their beliefs apart, to cripple their hopes into desperation and manipulate, until they were doing whatever he wanted – or beg at his feet. Beg to stop, to forgive or to finally end their lives. Killian had seen the mighty fall, he had seen the brave tremble in fear and the hopeful drown in sorrow.

But one thing they all had in common: They’d deserved what had happened to them.

“Oh, not so fast, Captain,” Pan smirked and put his hand on Killian’s chest. Surprised, the man let himself be pushed back, until his lower legs hit the bed. With an incredible smug grin, Pan shoved him, and Killian landed on his back, “I want to talk.”

“We’re going to be late,” Killian countered while sitting up again. He was not going to get up from the bed, because the boy clearly wanted him there, but he wouldn’t lie down either. That would feel too much like defeat.

Pan let out a small _tsk_. “It’s my game,” He said in a low voice, “I come and go as I may.”

As if to emphasize his words, Pan spread his arms wide. The grin was evident at all times. Now that Killian thought about it, no one had told him six p.m. was the start of the game. He simply assumed, because Felix had said evening. “Besides,” The boy began again, and Killian eyed him closely, “You and I haven’t had some quality time for a while.”

Killian opened his mouth to respond - they have talked alone in Neverland - but quickly shut it again. He somehow doubted it was, what Pan had actually meant. Furthermore, with Henry’s army around, you were never really alone, even if you hide away in a forest they didn’t know anything about. They would find you and barge in with the worst timing humanly possible. _Just like Charming did._ Killian grimaced at the thought. _Bloody hell._

But… Killian wasn’t quite sure, if he could survive time alone with Pan.

“So, tell me,” Pan started to wander around in his quarters with feigned interest. He didn’t look at anything in particular, because he was in here plenty of times in the past. Pan swept his index finger over the wooden desk, eyes fixed on the parchment, “How is it going with the Saviour? Already deeply in love?”

Killian stayed where he was. He wasn’t so stupid as to defy Pan, who clearly wanted him to sit. To play along was something, he would have to do in order to get on the eternal boy’s good side. Pan might be in a great mood, but there was something else. Something Killian couldn’t put his finger on. Maybe the boy knew – or sensed – the course of the game will be rather **surprising** this time, even for him. Henry’s army was annoyingly tenacious, when it came down to fight for their lives or their loved ones.

“I think you know,” he answered slowly. To be quite honest, Killian didn’t have a single clue, what the boy wanted him so say. Furthermore, the answer wouldn’t be something new. Pan knew it even before he asked the question. _What’s the point?_ He watched Pan with wary eyes - presumably the only reason he didn’t miss the boy’s silent chuckle. Just his shoulders had moved slightly if only briefly. Obviously, Killian had missed the joke, because this whole situation wasn’t really amusing.

“Humour me,” Pan picked up the now blank parchment. Killian knitted his brows. Pan looked at it as if he could see something, and maybe he did. The green eyes had been able to behold more than any other person Killian had met in the span of his rather long live, and you met a lot of people living, well, a pirate’s life, for the lack of a better term. The boy needed one look at you, no matter how long or short it may have been, and you were exposed to him. It was like opening a book, where every secret you kept is written. Pan just had to find the right page.

“Not so well,” Killian said matter-of-fact, because _bloody hell_ why even bother lying?

“But that’s not just her fault, isn’t it?” Pan mused inspecting the cover of an old book. Killian couldn’t remember, where he’d found it. It was about black magic or something of the likes. He never had the time to actually read it, and Pan didn’t seem to be too interested in the book’s topic. Bored he set it back on the desk and moved on.

“No,” He grinded his teeth. _This boy_ …

“Can it be,” Pan touched his chin with a finger pretending to think, “Correct me if I’m wrong, but it’s because there is someone else on your mind, right?”

The boy disappeared before Killian had the chance to open his mouth. This ability would give him a heart attack one day. Although he presumed, where Pan might re-appear, he didn’t know when, and that made it so much worse. But mostly the boy will be back within a heartbeat, before Killian could even realise he was gone.

Breath ghosted over his neck, and Killian turned around. He had to try hard to hide his indisposition. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Pan kneeled behind him, too close for comfort, and smirked. Maybe Regina was right. Maybe Pan **had** a soft spot for him. Not everyone received a smirk after lying the eternal boy straight in the face. It was like kicking a cat. You didn’t do it, because it’s wrong and you’d be found out eventually.

“Oh, I believe you do,” He whispered, and Killian felt his warm breath ghost again over the side of his face and throat. Killian turned a bit further around, and the next second he wanted to hit himself with something hard, because Pan’s lips brushed over his cheek instead of his ear. He didn’t realise the boy had moved **this** close.

“Emma wouldn’t feel right, would she?” Pan’s voice dropped low and dark and **promising**. Killian swallowed hard. _No._ Killian thought. _No, she wouldn’t_. He’d wanted it. He’d wanted her to be right for him. A desperate and doomed attempt to chase away the emotions and needs crushing down on him, as he’d dared to set foot on Neverland again.

“Nice to know,” Killian began. His voice shook just slightly, and he knew he was about to shoot himself in the knee. A ticking bomb, if you may. “That not even the eternal boy can resist my good looks.”

He still heard Pan chuckling in his right ear, as he appeared in his lap. Instinctively, Killian grabbed the boy’s hip with his good hand – just to keep distance, of course, not to pull him close. _Who would do something like that_? It wouldn’t hold Pan in place anyway. The boy did what he wanted, and he took what he wanted, whenever he wanted it. **_Why bother trying?_** Killian made a face. _To save my dignity._ At least the last bits and pieces, which were left.

“Don’t get too cocky, Captain,” Although said in a mockingly manner, Killian knew a warning when he heard one. It’s time for him to lay low again. He was not in the mood to deal with the demon, didn’t have the strength for it. Not now. Not when Pan was so incredible close.

“What is it exactly you want, Pan?” Killian eyed the boy closely, still gripping his slender hip. Pan however was paying interest in his hook. Rather confused, Killian stared at Pan’s long fingers caressing the metal, before he looked up again. His lips formed a smug grin. It’s something, Killian was able to relate to. It’s something, he knew.

“I want to make sure my opponent is in his best shape,” Pan said, and Killian flinched as the boy pressed down on his hand, hard and merciless. It hurt, and for a moment he thought, Pan was breaking his skin.

Then it hit him.

Pan was pressing down on his **hand** _._ A hand, Killian hadn’t had in a long time. Fascinated, Killian lifted it and wriggled his fingers. He clenched his fist and opened it again, everything under Pan’s amused gaze.  “Your opponent?” Killian asked at last trying to keep his calm. Maybe he shouldn’t be too happy about his hand – but it had the little scar right above the knuckle of where his thumb started. The one he’d gotten, when he was eight or nine years old, because he wouldn’t understand that the neighbour’s cat had hated little kids. Nevertheless, one could never knew when it came to Pan. For all Killian knew he could have cursed it. “What about the others?”

Pan moved in his lap, and Killian had to use both hands to keep him still. _Don’t you dare, boy._ Pan raised an eyebrow because of his question – or because he was practically digging his nails into the soft fabric of the green tunic to stop him from moving. He really, **really** didn’t want Pan this close. It wasn’t helping his racing mind.

“Tokens,” Pan stated audibly amused, “What do you think this is all about? I told you I want to restart our relationship.”

Indeed, he did. Killian remembered, and he probably should feel more relieved than excited. He’d been almost positive, his chances to get on his good side had been gone forever. _Don’t mess with the demon, just don’t._ It’s probably a lot easier to play with the child instead of asking stupid questions – but he couldn’t help it, “ **What** about the others?”

Anger flashed over the childish features in front of him. “What about **them**?” Pan spat gripping his chin and pulling him close to his face. Killian could feel his heart speed up. It hammered almost painfully against his ribcage. He was pretty sure the eternal boy provoked a reaction like this, because he released him shortly afterwards and smiled oh-so-satisfied. “Collateral damage.” _And nothing more._

Of course. It wouldn’t be the first time Killian and Pan were about to play a game of power, which left nothing but destruction in its wake – and Killian was, despite everything that had happened, strangely okay with it.

“Just like the old days, then?”

Pan smirked as he shook his head. Slowly, the boy inched closer, and Killian had to strengthen his grip again. It was a desperate attempt and worthless, too. Pan leaned closer still. Killian tried to read the boy’s expression but failed horrible. There was nothing but sly mischief in those green orbs.

“You said you’re not interested in the old days,” Pan used his very own words as he straightened, his breath ghosting over his skin, and Killian’s mouth left a rather surprised noise as the boy rolled his hips. The movement was small and could have happened, because Pan had moved backwards again, if not for the smirk on the reddish lips. He knew exactly, what he was doing, far too well as it seems. This boy was going to be the death of Killian.

“I like that you’re up for negotiation,” Killian said, and he felt his want getting the better of him. This time Pan lifted an eyebrow with an emotion, you could hardly call confusion but something quite alike, “however, I’d rather you use your mouth for something else.”

Before Pan had the chance to understand, what exactly had been said, Killian crushed their mouths together. It’s not a first kiss all girls dreamed about, it was quite the opposite. But he’s not a girl, and he wasn’t a sappy romantic either – at least not anymore – so he didn’t really mind. He wanted it, so he took it. Just as Pan would. This time, it really was as easy as that. Even so he knew: Nothing was simple with this particular boy in his lap.

The moment Pan adjusted to the new situation, the kiss grew harsh. Their teeth clicked as they tried to figure out, how it was right between them, how they wanted it to be. Killian didn’t bother. The boy was not pulling away, and that was all that mattered right now.

Killian gripped Pan’s neck with one hand to pull him closer even more, and he slung his free arm around his waist to keep him there. Surprisingly Pan let himself be manhandled. Instead of fighting for dominance, he, too, slung both his arms around Killian’s neck. His fingers found their way into his short hair.

This wasn’t exactly what Killian had wished for, but it was far more than he’d hoped for.

Pan nipped at his lower lip a little harder than necessary. Killian growled and pinched the boy in return. In a surprised manner, he opened his mouth, and just like a good pirate would, he used it to his advantage. Everyone thought he was one. _Why not live up to the prejudice?_ Without further due, Killian pushed his tongue in, and there was a low, almost inaudible moan in return.

For him, the sound alone was like the effects of a drug kicking in.

And Killian liked it. He liked kissing Pan, having him this close. Even more, he liked the way he tasted, and the way he pressed against him, wanting to be closer, **needing** to be closer. He practically begged Killian for more. This very thought went straight to his groin, and he got to his feet, Pan weightless in his arms. It seemed like he was easy to handle, but the boy did not allow Killian to push him down on the worn-out mattress. He bit his lips harder, this time drawing blood.

Killian hissed. There was a short struggle for dominance, and Pan would have lost eventually. But with his infinite strength, he had neither a problem to push Killian against the wooden door, nor to keep him there. It was the end of a kiss, Killian yearned for longer than he’d like to admit. Pan broke free, and moved away just slightly. The boy was still close enough to stay unfocused in his view.

“You’ll have to earn it,” Pan whispered against Killian’s lips, “if you want more.” The man snorted and leaned in for another kiss. _Whatever you say._ The boy smirked, he could feel it, and allowed him to peck his lips once more, before moving away again. Farther this time. _Too far_. Pan must be joking, this **had** to be a bloody joke.

“You cannot be serious,” Killian exclaimed and hated how needy he sounded, how hoarse and desperate for more. He pulled Pan closer by his hips, but the boy put his hands on the man’s chest, keeping distance with a knowing smirk.

“You seem to want it,” The eternal boy mused and raised an eyebrow as Killian growls. He had to be kidding. It was pretty obvious, wasn’t it? The whole situation was not supposed to be funny, but Pan had his own ways of playing with people. His mind worked different. Still, he couldn’t barge in and make Killian want and ache and **need** for more, just to leave him hanging in the end.

“You have no idea,” Killian said, his calm voice masking the burning anger inside him. Everything was a bloody game for Pan. Life, death, love – **everything** _._ But this - this was nothing he should be joking about. “You don’t toy with a man’s needs, boy.” Pan showed his teeth in a low growl, but he did not fight back as Killian turned them around, pressing the boy against the door. _Of course._ It did not even took him by surprise. _Because he knew._

Pan’s expression was amused now, and he wore his smirk like a bloody crown. Killian’s gaze was fixed on the still swollen lips. He pushed him harder against the wood, gripping the collar of the green tunic and pressing himself against the slender and slightly smaller body in front of him. Sometimes, Killian still wondered how someone with Pan’s physique could hold such force. It seemed to be impossible. Yet, here he was. Powerful and invincible. Killian instantly remembered how fragile and weak Pan looked the first time he saw him, almost as if a gust of wind could blow him away.

He knew better, now, and he won’t forget or be tricked by the boy’s absent defence, “I wanted to do things to you since I saw **him** kissing you.”

Killian was aware that he shouldn’t have said that, shouldn’t open up like this, but he felt a sick pleasure as Pan’s smile faltered quickly and changed into something worse. His red and swollen lips were pressed into a thin line. As Killian finally looked up, he was confronted with a dangerously dark gaze. The anger was evident in Pan’s eyes, almost tactile.

“You know,” Pan said, and his voice sounded somehow off, “It is a particular bad time talking about **him**.” He, too, didn’t speak his name aloud.

Killian’s conscience kicked in the moment, he saw something like hurt flash over the boy’s features. _Not hurt._ He realised. _It’s pain._ But he couldn’t be too sure of it. The next moment he’d looked at Pan, nothing but anger was visible in the young face. But he still wasn’t doing anything. He just looked at him, waiting for something, anything at all. There was no way to figure out the right thing to do, so Killian did the wrong. As always, because somehow that was what felt too damn good and perfectly correct – and sometimes, it let him forget his wrongs.

He pulled Pan closer again, excited. Already, he missed the feeling of the boy’s lips on his. Like an addict, he wanted more and more and did neither care about the price nor fear the consequences. The attempt to kiss Pan again was smothered fast, as the boy simply turned his head to one side, now facing the dark sky behind the glass, and Killian’s lips touched his jawline.

Leaning back again, Killian contemplated Pan closely. His face was almost blank. Killian sighed and grabbed the boy’s chin, who stared back at him with hard greyish orbs.

When Pan was angry, his eyes were a lot darker than usual. Not black, but the darkest grey you could imagine. Almost like the clouds before a thunderstorm. This colour wasn’t as evident, when his temper was more calm and collected, and he wasn’t thinking about killing you with just a single look. Killian didn’t want to put the kiss of death on it, but it’s not unlikely, Pan would be able to do so. But the boy only stared back at him, no thread on his features, just anger and hatred and something like hurt, something like **despair** underneath all of it.

Killian decided to do something rather unusual – and complete reasonable: Talk. Because for one thing, he doubted Pan would tell his Lost Boys about those things, maybe Felix but honestly neither of them both looked much like the sharing type. They might care about each other, but it was different to actually voice the need for help. Pan would never ask for a shoulder to cry on.

And for another thing, it was his fault – not maybe, not a bit. Killian was responsible for what had happened back in Neverland.

“Do you still mourn him?”

The anger vanished, completely taken by surprise. Under different circumstances Killian probably would have been happy somehow. To have bested Pan was nothing that were likely to happen every day.

“I doubt, it is any of your concern,” The boy remarked sharp and pushed Killian away. But before Pan was able to free himself completely or get any distance between them, Killian grabbed his slender wrist. Pan obviously was upset and inattentive, because it was rather unlikely for him to be so easily taken by surprise – twice. The boy didn’t say anything, but hidden underneath his posture and his dark eyes laid the obvious whisper of **_Don’t touch me_** _._

“Oh, but it is,” Killian mimicked, “I want my opponent to be in his best shape.” Pan’s eyes got darker – if that was even possible – with every single word leaving the man’s lips. But this wasn’t exactly what he wanted to say. There was something else, something more important. He wanted Pan to know. He **needed** Pan to know the truth.

“If I could go back, I would. I’m sorry, Peter.”

Pan was visibly taken aback, as Killian used his first name. For all the years they’d known each other, he’d never done that. Not once. Pan did. Pan called him by his first name almost all the time, and he obviously didn’t read too much into doing so. Killian was never using Pan’s first name, because it would swallow the last bit of distance he fought so hard to keep.

And he had been right. It **did** _._

“But you can’t,” Pan snarled, “So concentrate on the task ahead.” **_And don’t touch me. Let go. Get off_** _._ He wasn’t saying any of those things, but he didn’t need to. Everything basically screamed it. His mimics, gestures and his whole posture. But Killian didn’t let go, and the boy surprisingly didn’t use his inhuman strength to get rid of him. It was unlikely and slightly concerning, but Killian wouldn’t stop because of strange behaviour. He learned from the best. Besides, the boy was always good for surprises.

“Do you?” Killian asked in a calm voice pulling and pushing Pan’s anger and weakness at the same time. Up until now he’d never realised, the boy kept a secret like this. Indeed, he’d seemed to be struck by it when it had happened. Still, it was a long time ago. He never knew Pan was someone, who grieved this long. But maybe he should had; maybe it was an uncaring mistake; there was more to the eternal boy than met the eye. “Still mourn him, I mean.”

Pan pursed his lips. His gaze was fixed on Killian’s hand. He either regretted to have it given back, or he simply refused to look at him, to show what he was feeling. Most of the time it might be hard to read the boy, but if you look close enough, you’ll be able to see his emotion dance behind those green eyes.

“I cannot believe I lost him,” Pan said slowly, and Killian raised an eyebrows in surprise. He’d hoped for one, but never expected an answer. “He left, because he loved me.” A sound, reminding Killian of a strangled cry, left his lips. Pan tried to cover it up with a chuckle. It didn’t work, but Killian wasn’t about to tell him. “It’s stupid.”

“Love?” Killian asked and finally let go of Pan’s wrist. The boy didn’t waste any time to bring more distance between them than actually necessary.

“Yes,” He hesitated and only slowly met Killian’s confused gaze. Pan looked as if he tried to read the answer on his opponent’s face, but didn’t find anything of value, “But that he’d left, too.”

Killian would never, neither now, nor in the future, tell anyone about the vulnerability he’d had heard in the boy’s voice. It was full of despair and confusion, and only more anger and grief. Pan kept it hidden at all costs, but it only took so much time before it was going to eat him up again.

Everyone in Neverland was relying on Pan, but the eternal child had no one to go to, to lean on, because showing any weakness could scare his boys. It probably wouldn’t, but his sick and twisted pride wouldn’t allow Pan to ask for any help either.

Killian sighed, “The most stupid things men do, they do because of the love for someone.” For a moment he hesitated, pondering whether to end the conversation or to pry on his soft spot for more information. Pan would certainly do so, but he wasn’t Peter Pan, and he was no pirate either.

“It’s the way the world works, kid.”

The moment was gone, Killian was very aware about it. You didn’t call him **kid,** but to anger him entirely.

“Let’s play, Killian.”

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written a fanfiction in ages, and I never ever wrote in English to begin with. It is not my native language, hence I've always shied away from doing so. But I want to improve my writing skills. So, I wouldn't mind if you stumble over mistakes and point them out to me - as long as you don't forget the story itself. Constructive criticism is much appreciated. 
> 
> Besides, this fandom needs more Captain Pan. I mean, come on... the tension between them was so obvious. I love them so much together. Too bad, they have had so little screen time.
> 
> Right now, I have already prepared twelve chapters. I just need to write them. But there is no end in sight just yet. It was never supposed to be that long, but my dear main characters did what they want. I will keep you updatet, I guess. 
> 
> [I will say sorry in advance for any OoCness... I try my best, I really do. But somehow my characters always tend to be a bit out of character...]


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